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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27252070">Won't Let Go</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiniestawoo/pseuds/tiniestawoo'>tiniestawoo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>teen wolf tumblr drabbles and ficlets [16]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ambushes and Sneak Attacks, Blood, Blood and Injury, Bombs, Established Relationship, Explosions, M/M, Serious Injuries</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:27:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>557</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27252070</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiniestawoo/pseuds/tiniestawoo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He knows that Peter is the weight on his chest, heavy and unmoving. He lifts his hands, shaking with adrenaline and fear he’d never admit to, and tries to trace the flow of warm, sticky wetness back to its source. There seems to be too many sources, Peter’s back littered with pieces of shrapnel. His mind flashes back to another Hale, another time a werewolf had shielded his body with their own. </p><p>or, the one where Chris and Peter end up on the wrong side of an explosion.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chris Argent/Peter Hale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>teen wolf tumblr drabbles and ficlets [16]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896046</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Won't Let Go</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The request was: Chris and Peter and grateful and/or wounded. I went with both!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chris’s ears ring and his vision is still violently white. Some time had passed since the grenade had gone off, but it could be seconds, hours, or days, Chris couldn’t tell you. There is a heavy weight on his chest, dampness spreading onto him that he knows will be scarlet as soon as he can see anything but white.</p><p>He hit his head on the way down, and that’s part of the issue, but the flash of the grenade had been bright and loud. Chris had been too busy wondering how he’d misjudged the situation to do anything about it. For the first time in <em>years</em> he hesitated. And if it wasn’t for Peter, he’d be dead.</p><p>He knows that Peter is the weight on his chest, heavy and unmoving. He lifts his hands, shaking with adrenaline and fear he’d never admit to, and tries to trace the flow of warm, sticky wetness back to its source. There seems to be too many sources, Peter’s back littered with pieces of shrapnel. His mind flashes back to another Hale, another time a werewolf had shielded his body with their own. </p><p>Like he deserved the protection. Like he didn’t carry the blood of a man who would see every one of them dead. This is twice – though he’s aware it’s far more than twice in reality – that a werewolf has protected him, saved his life, and he wonders what he’s done to deserve it.</p><p>The ringing in his ears subsides enough that he can hear a groan and the sense of relief that washes through him is as unexpected as it is warm. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He’d never admit it but he’s too fragile to handle any more loss. He’s at his threshold, well over it, really. He’s lost too much. He’s sacrificed too much to lose anything more.</p><p>
  <em>Especially not him.</em>
</p><p>“Fuck,” Peter groans, his sense of pretentiousness and decorum lost to what Chris imagines is a significant amount of pain. Peter wheezes and tries to roll off of Chris, but Chris stops him. </p><p>“Don’t move,” Chris murmurs. “You’re hurt.” His vision is coming back now, and he can see smoke in the room around them, but no other people. He’s sure Peter’s pain is dulling his senses, so he’s anxious to get a better viewpoint.</p><p>But not anxious enough to let go of Peter, not yet. </p><p>“As lovely as your body is, dear, laying on you isn’t going to make me <em>less</em> hurt.” Peter’s snark is another layer of balm to the fear in Chris’s chest, the momentary sinking feeling that he might have to once more survive his already broken heart shattering once more. “They could come back.” </p><p>“I just need a minute,” Chris admits softly. With another groan, Peter peels his chest up from Chris’s so that Chris can get the full brunt of his raised eyebrow. Chris smiles, bright and true and so unlike the man he would have been two years ago, before Peter stumbled back into his life and they started whatever it was that they now shared. </p><p>Peter’s silence, and the shallow, effortful breaths are telling. Chris brings his hand up to tug Peter back down, holding him tightly, mindful of the scattering of  open wounds on his back. </p><p>“Thank you,” he breathes.</p>
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